


The prologue. (The hunt AU from Metmarfil)

by SpicyJambalaya



Series: The Hunt AU. McHanzo [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyJambalaya/pseuds/SpicyJambalaya
Summary: is just the prologue to a very interesting Mchanzo comic from my adorable Metmarfil (that's her user on tumblr)Basicaly, is McHanzo in the middle of the Salem trials.INFINITE THANKS TO MERCURYTAIL (that's her tumblr user) for been my beta reader and put up with my. I love you.





	The prologue. (The hunt AU from Metmarfil)

Epilogue

An interesting thing about the town of Jones is that 40 years ago it was only a farm carried for by the Jones family. They lived a quiet life as farmers and opened the doors of their home to any traveler that needed it. However, that kindness that was later their downfall.  
  
The mother, a woman of spanish descent dreamed of traveling to Europe. She met her husband; Percival Jones, a man who’d travelled to escape the old world plagued by dark memories of illness, corruption and persecution on the farm. He was her dream come true. Percival abandoned his faith once he arrive to America after living in the chaos and grime of London and his only mission in life was to spend his remaining days of peace with his wife and children.  
  
In the month of January 1655, incessant storms lashed the farm leaving them isolated and without any food for weeks. The last guest they’d had left the farm with a persistent fever, nausea and vomiting.

  
The father, mother, and 5 of the 6 children all dead of smallpox. Jededíah, the youngest and only 14 years of age was the only survivor.  
  
His mother had been the first one to die. The children follow her one after the other.  
  
On one stormy night, the father, sick and knowing that his time was nearing, held the corpse of his firstborn in his arms and wept in silence until the illness claimed him.  
  
The young Jededíah - whose only company in those days of incessant rain had been the corpse of his father clutching the body of his brother leaned against the bed - weak and pained, threw himself to the ground, sure he would not get up again.  
  
He held within his scrawny arms covered in raised lesions, his father’s old bible and even though he could barely read, for days he read it over and over. Alone and waiting for death, Jededíah prayed to God with whom he had never spoken to in his life to save him.  
  
Even now, on the nights that the pastor couldn’t fall asleep, he remembered that day.  
  
It had been a little over a week since his father’s death, the bible was pressed against his skeletal chest, as he recited a chapter of psalms by memory when the rain stopped.  
  
The boy smiled with chapped lips with only one thought in his mind. Cheered by the idea of dying outside, he exited the house. He would die out in the mud while he looked to God.

  
He smelled the fresh rainy air instead of the stench of death as he looked at the sky. The light filtered through the clouds hurting his eyes but Jededíah did not care. He threw himself into the icy, wet mud and looked at up at his creator and waited, but death never came for him.  
  
The tale of the child spread like wildfire among the travelers who passed through the Jones farm. They were captivated by the story of the child who survived thanks to his faith and by the grace of God  
  
At 18 years old Jededíah had gathered a modest entourage of travelers and merchants, who came without fail, every Sunday to his farm to work in the field with him. They rebuilt the house, built a chapel and listened to the sermons of the young man.  
  
At the age of 20, the first families moved next to the farm and began to build their houses. People came with their loaded wagons to live in the modest town founded by the child who was saved by faith.  
  
20 years after the death of his entire family with more than 150 people in the village, the pastor had secured a place in the hearts of his congregation as patriarch, teacher, pastor and provider. He made sure that every man, woman, and child could read and have a copy of the Bible in their homes.  
  
The inhabitants of Jones attributed to him (in spite of his austere and sober attitude) to possess a heart of gold.  
  
The eyes of everyone in the village turned to him in confusion when he decided to take a wife who had previously been married and had given a child to another man.  
  
Sussan was a lovely woman who had lost her entire family to the same terrible disease he knew so intimately. The very disease that had killed his family in what he considered a divine punishment for their heretic ways, had stripped the beautiful Sussan of everything she had as well.  
  
Alone and driven half mad from the pain of loss, she merely nodded silently and followed when Jededíah came for her  
  
The men and women of the congregation discouraged the cleric from taking a wife who was not pure in the eyes of god, but he stood firm, claiming that they all were his sheep and that he would do everything to protect and give a home to every member of his flock.  
  
Not long after, during the cleansing of the forests of the Red Savages, a travelling couple settled in the village, seeking shelter from the harsh winter. The man was an English merchant and his wife was an Indian woman and in her arms rested their half-breed son. In the short time they stayed in the village, they slept in the stables due to the fact that none of the inns would give asylum to an Indian and her young.  
  
No long after their arrival the parents died of the same disease. The good people of Jones had expected the tragedy, having assumed it was God’s punishment for sullying the sacred link with the cross-blood. However, the child that barely could say a word or two proved to be more resilient than his progenitors and managed to overcome the illness.  
  
Everyone’s eyes focused on Pastor Jones; a gentle man who gave shelter to the poor, the helpless, and the sick. A man who could not conceive a child with his wife, no matter how hard they tried or prayed. He was caught under the judgment of his parishioners and in the end had no other choice but to take the half-blood child as his own.  
  
The people of Jones who had raised their children with the story of how their pastor had survived the terror of smallpox with only the strength of his faith, saw in the little mestizo a signal from their lord and praised fell upon him.  
  
Behind closed doors, the pastor could not have been more miserable. He hated the child’s presence but knew that going against his lord’s wishes brought illness and death. It was not unusual to hear him murmur that the child was a penance for his pride.  
  
The boy’s name was Jesse. He was small for his age. In the first weeks living with the pastor and his wife, Jesse was scared and distrustful. He religiously escaped every night to the stable where his parents died, only to be dragged back in the morning. Despite his skeletal appearance, the shepherd possessed great strength and knew with terrifying precision where to strike to inflict maximum pain without leaving any mark. Nonetheless Jesse never complained, he never thought he would get anything more than a beating if he did.  
  
Jesse was a smart boy, even at a young age he knew he had to keep some things to himself. He knew his parents were dead but every time he snuck up to the stables, his mother had still been there watching over him in silent adoration.  
  
She opened her mouth but no words could be heard, she tried to touch him but he could only feel cold and emptiness. She stay as long as she could until her essence began to scatter, leaving only a shadow that wandered aimlessly through the town, without rest nor purpose.  
  
Once his adoptive family was form by the grace of God, the pastor determined that both should leave behind their past lives and surrender completely to him, and by extension to God. He baptized them both in the river and changed their names. The entire town celebrated that both of them left behind their lives of darkness to be bathed in the light of their new patriarch. The pastor demanded penance, moderation, and undisputed devotion to the creator.  
  
Susan became known as Mary Jones and the little mestizo was forced to abandon the name that his heretic mother had given him and became known as Joseph. He had a hard time getting used to the name and had to endure many penances. Suffering many days without food, nights left out in the cold as a child until he understood that it was better to do as he was told. He ended up accepting it and responding to the name after a while.  
  
Jesse grew up. He was a hardworking child, who sought desperately to see pride within his father’s eyes, but also feared him more than the devil himself.

  
The young man’s life was spent in an almost spartan routine. He would get up before dawn to pray with his father, take his penance, clean the chapel, count the sacks of corn and help in the fields.  
  
Despite his misfortune, Jesse considered himself lucky. He had a roof over his head, food on the table and a mission in life; to help the townspeople that had opened their arms for him.  
  
When Jesse wasn’t helping in the chapel, praying, or helping the ill, he would go to the corn fields and visit his only friend.  
  
Gabriel Reyes had arrived in town with nothing to offer and no hope of staying. However, one day without really knowing how, in a drunken delirium he got a job. He was tasked with taking care of the corn fields.  
  
Despite multiple attempts by the pastor and the townspeople who tried to convince him, Gabriel never agreed to change his name, for which the community never accepted him for. He lived on the edge of the village in a small ramshackled hut. His only job was to take care of the cornfields and keep his distance of the good working people of the town. He could not have been happier to stand aside.  
  
There are those who say that the generous harvests were a gift from God for their devotion, but the pastor knew deep down in his gut that it was all Gabriel’s work. He didn’t know how and didn’t care. Despite having been raised on a farm, taking care of the land was never something he exceeded at. So, they both maintained a healthy relationship in which they never saw or spoke to each other, except through Joseph.  
  
Gabriel was a tall, broad man with sun-darkened skin punctuated by many angry pinkish scars. When Jesse was a young boy, he asked Gabriel if his father also gave him penances. Gabriel let out a loud laugh from the depths of his chest and ruffled Jesse’s hair. He responded with the first curse word he had ever heard, mocking his own father and Jesse’s. The young boy thought the devil was coming to get him for earring the curse but nothing happened. The fearless determination in that curse horrified him as much as it lured him. He decided then and there that he liked Gabriel very much.  
  
That was life in Jones. Humdrum, devout, and austere.  
  
Jesse was certain that he would live his entire life in Jones. He only hoped he would be useful to God, to his father and to help as many souls as he could in the time that he had.   
  
Little did the 20-year-old know that destiny had other plans for him.  
  
On August 20, 1690 a foreigner arrived to the bay of Massachusetts during the harvest festival. According to a girl who played that day on the seashore, the man was as pale as a ghost and carried marks on his skin that shined like they had been kissed by the sun


End file.
